Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Clayton Kershaw suffered his post-bobblehead-night hangover, unusually lasting only five innings and giving up four ER (1 BB, 6 Ks). Most of the pain came in the three-run fourth inning, where the first four Giants singled and Kershaw bled to death from a thousand paper cuts.

The Dodgers finally got to Cain, who had retired the first 12 batters, with a Kemp HR (his ninth) in the fifth. But despite following Kemp's HR with a Juan Uribe walk, a James Loney HBP, and a Jay Gibbons walk--and none out--Rod Barajas, inexplicably-summoned Juan Castro, and Jamey Carroll made sure we wouldn't score any of those baserunners.

And this is where the game seemed to turn. Seventh inning, Barajas scores Gibbons with an RBI double. And then the eighth inning: Carroll with a leadoff single, Aaron Miles worthless and Andre Ethier Ks, and then Kemp singles. And then--THEN, with two out!--Bruce Bochy summons Brian Wilson to pitch. Uribe doubles in Carroll and Kemp, Loney knocks in Uribe with a single to RF, and suddenly it's a tie game going to the ninth. A tie game! The Dodgers hadn't come back from four runs down all year long! This is it!

Except, it's not. These are the 2011 Dodgers, fortified with losers like Lance Cormier in the pen. A two-out, three-run HR to Cody "Rodeo Clown" Ross later, and this game is over. There is no furious comeback for the Dodgers, not tonight, and probably not this year.

I'm still befuddled by the platoon situation in left. If you're gonna platoon, go between Gwynn and Sands. Relegate Gibbons to the bench (or kick him to the curb). Sure, Gwynn's not a power guy, but if he gets on, he's a threat to steal. Gibbons can't really do much of anything at the plate.

The Cadillac stood by the houseAnd the yanks they were withinAnd the tinker boys they hissed advice'Hot-wire her with a pin'Then we turned and shook as we had a lookIn the room where the dead man laySo big Jim Dwyer made his last tripTo the shores where his father's laid

And fifteen minutes laterWe had our first taste of whiskeyThere was uncles giving lecturesOn ancient Irish historyThe men all started telling jokesAnd the women they got friskyBY five o'clock in the eveningEvery bastard there was pisky

Fare thee well going awayThere's nothing left to sayFarewell to New York City boysTo Boston and PAHe took them outWith a well-aimed cloutHe was often heard to sayI'm a free born man of (South LA)